


Fortune

by earlgreytea68



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-07
Updated: 2018-01-07
Packaged: 2019-03-01 11:29:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13293924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/earlgreytea68/pseuds/earlgreytea68
Summary: Fortune-telling, Arthur would tell you, isn't A Thing.





	Fortune

**Author's Note:**

> For the prompt, "Remember who you really are."

_Remember who you really are_ , read the fortune cookie. 

Eames felt it was the equivalent of a taunt. He had no idea who he really was, and he liked to believe that nobody else did, either. The fortune cookie was ridiculous. 

He tried to explain that to Arthur. “This fortune cookie—” he began. 

“If you are going to spend time talking to me about a _fortune_ ,” Arthur cut him off, “then you need to be given more of the mark’s financial statements to review. Here.” 

Eames looked in dismay at the stack of deadly dull papers Arthur dropped in front of him. Way worse than a fortune. “I just want to say,” said Eames, “that this fortune—”

“Look.” Arthur, unexpectedly, leaned over Eames, giving him his full attention instead of burying his head in his research. Eames blinked, startled at having Arthur’s entire focus. “It’s a random piece of paper with a meaningless sequence of words written by someone without fortune-telling talent, because there’s no such thing. So don’t let it affect you. Okay?”

Eames wasn’t used to Arthurian pep talks. He didn’t know how to react. He said, as if his heart wasn’t racing from Arthur’s proximity, “Okay,” and pretended his voice didn’t sound hoarse and rough. 

Arthur smiled at him, quicksilver, before moving away, back to his own workspace. “What did it say, anyway?” he asked negligently, as he settled back into the financials. “That you’d meet a tall, dark stranger?” 

Eames stared at Arthur’s dark head, bent over the statements, as mysterious and unknown as ever to him. “Something like that,” he managed. 

***

Years later, when Arthur’s dark head was neither mysterious nor unknown and frankly had more silver than Arthur liked to admit to, Eames said, “That fortune I had.” 

“Mmm,” Arthur said lazily, his head pillowed on Eames’s abdomen. He sounded half-asleep when he answered. “Don’t worry. It’s safe and sound in the Cayman Islands. I was wondering when you’d notice that.” 

Eames laughed. “Not that. I noticed you stole all my money ages ago.”

“I was keeping it safe for you,” mumbled Arthur, brushing a kiss onto Eames’s skin, onto the tattoo that was Arthur’s that curled over his chest and along his ribcage, encasing his heart. “You’d’ve spent it on booze and poker and twinky kept boys.” 

“My twinky kept boy stole all of it so, yeah, turns out I spent all of it on twinky kept boys.” 

Arthur laughed and stretched to wake himself up more fully and then crawled to sprawl out full-length on Eames. “You got your money’s worth,” he said. 

“Yeah, I did,” Eames agreed, tangling his fingers into Arthur’s hair. “I was talking about a fortune cookie fortune.” 

Arthur lifted his eyebrows. “A fortune cookie fortune? What?” 

“Years ago, I got a fortune, and I tried to talk to you about it, and you told me that there was no such thing as fortune-telling, basically.” 

“There isn’t,” Arthur said. “What did it tell you? That you’d meet a tall, dark stranger?” 

Eames smiled. “That’s what you said back then, too.” 

“Hmm.” Arthur settled himself comfortably on Eames. “That turned out to be true, so maybe fortune-telling _is_ a thing.” 

“It said, ‘Remember who you really are.’”

Arthur laughed. “That’s a hard one for you. Too many aliases to dig through.” 

“Yeah. That’s what I thought at the time, too.” 

“‘Remember who you really are.’ Jesus. You’ve been worrying about that all these years?” 

Eames was reflective. “Not worrying.”

“You never forgot about it,” Arthur pointed out wisely. 

“I guess I’ve always been…hoping to remember who I really am.” 

Arthur lifted his head and looked at him for a long moment. “I wish I’d let you tell me this fortune years ago. I would have told you: I’ve always known who you really are. I’ll remember for you.” 

“I know,” Eames said. “That’s why I’m bringing it up. Because I depend on you for that.” 

Arthur leaned down and pressed his lips against Eames’s. “Got it covered.” 

Eames kissed him back, thinking, _Who I really am is yours_. Which Arthur knew.


End file.
